Chapter Text
What could possibly be the best way to tolerate someone whose behavior is both insanely irritating and painfully irresistible at the same time?
If anyone can answer that question, it’s Jeong Yunho from apartment 23/b, who is currently humming quietly while messing around in the kitchen. The same song has been stuck in his head for a while now – ever since last night’s house party at one of his old friends’ places. The kind of party that leaves your head pounding like you’ve been beaten half to death. To be fair, the ugly bluish-green bruises scattered across his thighs, knees, and upper arms – at least six of them – don’t exactly contradict that feeling. He clearly remembers how he got one of them: he kicked the corner of Seonghwa’s dining table with full force somewhere between his third and fourth “just drink it, I swear it’s good” mixed concoction. He can still taste those drinks in his mouth, despite everything he’s eaten and drunk since then.
In hindsight, letting Wooyoung handle the drinks had been a terrible idea. Moderation was never exactly his thing – in fact, he firmly believes the only way to truly enjoy a gathering like that is to get completely wasted. Yunho disagrees. He usually has a great time sober, too. Last night was just… an exception. One where all he wanted was to let loose a little.
And why, exactly?
It took barely an hour for him to reach the point where he had no choice but to drown his frustration in alcohol, or else he would’ve exploded on the spot – right there on Seonghwa’s faux leather couch.
There’s only one reason for that.
A certain someone named Kang Yeosang.
A person who, for some time now, has been relentlessly sticking to Yunho like a shadow, and for some inexplicable reason, is completely impossible to get rid of.
Yunho presses the knife down so hard onto the carrot on the cutting board that instead of slicing it cleanly, the vegetable gracefully launches into the air, flies across the room, and rolls under the fridge, into a dark abyss inhabited by dust bunnies, ancient debris, and Yunho’s deepest, darkest secrets. There is absolutely no way he’s retrieving that carrot. It’s not worth it.
With a frustrated sigh, he slams the knife onto the counter, drags a hand down his face, and lets out a low growl before realizing – unfortunately –, that it had been his last carrot.
Serves him right for thinking about Yeosang while chopping vegetables.
Muttering to himself, he abandons his half-finished lunch and collapses onto the couch instead. One leg thrown over the other, feet resting on the coffee table, he gives up on the idea of watching TV. He knows from experience that once Yeosang worms his way into his mind, there’s no room left for anything else.
The thing about Yeosang is that he’s not someone you can simply forget. He leaves a mark on everyone he meets. What kind of mark, though – that’s another question entirely. Most people can’t even decide whether they’d rather kill him or die for him. And Yeosang acts exactly like someone who knows that. Confidence radiates from him at all times; chin lifted, gaze slightly condescending as he sizes people up, casually twirling a strand of his hair around his finger like some innocent angel while simultaneously drawing every pair of eyes in the room and devouring the attention.
The first time they met, they actually talked a lot. And during that time, Yunho came to three conclusions. In order:
“Dear god, who is this divine being who has blessed us with his presence?”, “...He’s not quite what I expected”, and finally: “This guy is a complete dickhead.”
If Yunho is being honest with himself – and it’s about time he starts being –, none of those thoughts were entirely accurate. Until now, he’s always thought of Yeosang as nothing more than a source of constant irritation, but lately, he’s been forced to admit something else: He finds him… entertaining.
He likes Yeosang.
It’s just that about eighty percent of the time, he’s completely unbearable.
His phone starts ringing in the kitchen, fortunately snapping Yunho out of his thoughts. He drags himself back in, picks it up, and stares at the unfamiliar number for a few seconds before answering.
“Hello? This is Jeong Yunho,” he says uncertainly.
“I know who you are, idiot.”
That voice is unmistakable. It sends a chill down Yunho’s spine, and right now, it sounds even more amused than usual. Like Yeosang is slotting the final piece into some kind of devilish plan just by making this call.
“Yeosang? Is that you?”
Not that he really doubts it, but still.
“Who else? Wait… did you seriously not save my number?”
“Why would I?”
Knowing full well that Yeosang is now deeply offended, and about to launch into a dramatic rant, Yunho wedges the phone between his shoulder and ear and starts cleaning the counter while listening to the stream of complaints. He glances once more at his abandoned lunch, folds up the cheese to put it back in the fridge, and suddenly gets an idea.
“...so I honestly have no idea what you were thinking–”
“Yeosang.”
“Hm? Yeah?”
“Do you have a carrot?”
“…What?”
“Can you give me one? I need it for my food, and I ran out.”
“Sure, come get it. But listen, I can offer you something else instead of a carrot. It’s just as long, you can take it in your mouth, and–”
Yunho hangs up without a second thought, shaking his head in disapproval.
Sometimes he forgets that Yeosang’s sense of humor is stuck somewhere around that of a twelve-year-old.
Not bothering to change out of his home clothes or slippers, Yunho takes the stairs two at a time up to the third floor. Normally, he’s not exactly thrilled about the fact that they live in the same building, but since they work different hours and there’s an entire floor between them, it’s manageable. At least Yeosang has been here for four months, and they’ve only run into each other in the elevator three times.
Stopping in front of apartment 43/a, Yunho hesitates for a moment before knocking, but before he can decide, the door swings open.
And there he is.
Yeosang, in the flesh, holding a carrot.
He looks half-asleep, dark circles under his eyes, but he’s grinning as always. Yunho has already concluded that he’s probably never seen him not smile, maybe because he’d seem less intimidating otherwise. He’s wearing red plaid pajama pants and a wrinkled white T-shirt, his messy red hair sticking up in random directions. It could be cute… If it weren’t Yeosang. This way, it’s just slightly less unbearable, but no less attractive.
“Nice outfit.”
“Look who’s talking,” Yunho laughs, eyeing him again.
The dim hallway light only makes Yeosang’s toned arms more defined. Yunho unconsciously wets his lower lip before forcing his gaze back up to his eyes, very deliberately avoiding looking at his mouth.
“It’s not a crime to wear pajamas in my own apartment,” Yeosang raises an eyebrow. “You, on the other hand, look like I kicked you out after a one-night stand and now you’re begging to stay because you partied so hard you lost all your belongings.”
“If I ever got involved with you like that, I’d run for my life,” Yunho scoffs. “No way I’d be on my knees asking for a place to stay.”
“You’d rather freeze outside?”
“If it’s you? Absolutely.” A smirk tugs at Yunho’s lips.
They stare at each other for a few seconds before Yeosang sighs dramatically, like this is the most boring conversation he’s ever had.
“Get lost.”
“No need to tell me twice,” Yunho winks before turning away.
He hears a frustrated noise behind him, and it only makes him want to smile more.
That good mood lasts about fifteen minutes. Until he realizes he forgot the one thing he came for.
With a groan, he heads back, knocks again, louder this time, and when there’s no answer after twenty painfully long seconds, he grabs the handle and lets himself in like he owns the place.
Instead of calling out, he looks around. It’s his first time here, and it’s nothing like he expected. Paintings line the walls, plants fill every corner, books are neatly arranged. Everything is perfectly in place. It doesn’t feel lived in, more like a staged apartment someone decorated and then abandoned. It’s strange. Cold. Unsettling.
“What the hell are you doing here? Trying to stay over after I kicked you out?”
Yunho turns toward the voice.
Yeosang stands a few meters away, damp hair falling into his face, steam drifting out from the open door behind him.
And he’s very clearly shirtless.
Yunho bites his lip, muttering a silent prayer as his gaze locks onto him, unable to look away.
Water droplets still cling to his skin, and when Yeosang runs a hand through his hair, muscles flexing, Yunho can only think one thing: he wants to know what that porcelain tastes like.
“You know,” Yeosang smirks, stepping closer, “you’re looking at me like you want something. But since it’s you, I know that’s not the case. So maybe stop staring? I’m aware I have a perfect body, you don’t need to feed my ego. Give me a second, I’ll grab a shirt so you don’t get tempted.”
He disappears into another room.
Yunho remains frozen in place. This isn’t new, he’s always known Yeosang is attractive. He’s always known he’s drawn to him despite everything. But this feels different… Like a realization.
For a moment, he almost follows him. Instead, he takes a deep breath and forces himself to think. It’s just Yeosang. The most annoying person alive.
…Though somehow, not nearly as annoying as he was last night.
Maybe it was the alcohol. Or the lack of it. Right now, Yunho would gladly down a few glasses of Wooyoung’s questionable mixtures just to forget what he’s feeling.
Yeosang steps out of his bedroom in a loose black T-shirt, stopping right in front of Yunho and looking up at him.
“So what exactly are you doing in my apartment?”
“I came for the carrot,” Yunho mutters, lips pressing into a thin line.
“Right,” Yeosang laughs. “After you left, I realized you’d left it here, but I figured it couldn’t be that important if it slipped your mind,” he shrugs. “Wait, I’ll get it.”
At that moment, his phone starts ringing in his pocket. He frowns slightly, checks the caller ID, then raises it to his ear, mouthing a quick “one second”.
“Hey, Joong!” he greets cheerfully. Someone Yunho doesn’t know. “No, now’s not a good time, I’m busy.” Their eyes meet. “Can’t you do tomorrow? I know you’re busy, but you can make time for me! No, tomorrow’s Sunday. Yeah. It’s Saturday, Joong. No, you’re the idiot! See, I told you… so tomorrow works? Mhm, good. See you there. Bye, loser!”
He ends the call and grins at Yunho, who feels something strange stirring in his chest.
“Who was that?”
“Hongjoong.”
“Is there something going on between you and this Hongjoong guy?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no.”
“Good. There better not be,” Yunho narrows his eyes.
“Oh? You’re forbidding it?”
“I am.”
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous…” Yeosang holds his gaze, amused. “Didn’t think I’d live to see the day, but apparently miracles do happen.”
Yunho responds with a frustrated growl, taking a step back. He tries not to show the internal chaos raging inside him, his heart and mind clashing relentlessly. It feels like a war. Yeosang started a war inside him. That’s the end of the world, apparently.
“I’m not jealous,” Yunho rolls his eyes. “Can you just give me the carrot already? I want to cook.”
“Oh, of course!” Yeosang bursts out laughing, and Yunho realizes he wouldn’t mind listening to that sound a little longer.
Several hours later, Yunho is sprawled across his couch, completely full.
His kitchen is spotless, aside from the carrot that rolled under the fridge, which will likely remain there until the end of time. Satisfied, he scrolls through things online, barely noticing time passing. At least, that’s how it looks from the outside. In reality, the letters on his laptop screen blur together under his dry eyes. He can’t make sense of a single sentence because his mind is somewhere else entirely.
On Yeosang.
He bites his lip, trying to push the thoughts away, unsuccessfully. With a defeated sigh, he shuts the laptop and sinks deeper into the couch, resigning himself to the fact that instead of resting, he’s once again overthinking what that red-haired menace living one floor above him actually means to him.
The truth is, Yeosang flirts like an Olympian, and seems to think Yunho is his training ground. The problem is, he’s very wrong. He should be treating him as an opponent instead.
Yeosang is a predator. But the territory he wandered into? That belongs to Yunho. Which leaves Yunho with only one option: capture him.
He inhales sharply, trying to suppress the thoughts creeping into his mind, but they refuse to be contained. He imagines Yeosang beneath him, the walls of the bedroom echoing with the sounds of pleasure slipping from his lips. Imagines him breathless, voice breaking as he begs for more – faster, rougher, harder. Fingernails dragging down his back. Cool palms against heated skin. Their mouths meeting in something messy and consuming as Yunho finally releases all the tension Yeosang has built up inside him by fucking every last sane thought out of him, pounding him until he's done. He thinks about how satisfying it would be to silence that constantly running mouth, and he knows exactly how he’d do it.
His breathing grows heavier, almost uneven. The physical signs of his desire are impossible to ignore, and if he doesn’t do something about it, it’s going to end badly for him tonight. His hand drifts to his waistband, loosening the drawstring, fingers slipping beneath the fabric. The moment he touches himself, a sharp breath escapes him – he hadn’t expected just how easily thoughts of Yeosang could push him this far.
But before he can do anything more, a knock is heard. Yunho freezes.
At first, he thinks he imagined it. It’s barely past one-thirty in the morning, most people are asleep by now. He tries to ignore it. Then it comes again. Louder.
With a frown, he gets up and walks to the door. The answer should be obvious, still, he opens it, only to be met with Yeosang standing there.
Of course.
This time, he’s wearing a gray T-shirt, pajama pants and slippers, making Yunho bite back a smile.
He leans slightly forward, the hem of his shirt brushing his thighs, silently praying Yeosang doesn’t realize what he interrupted.
“Well, now who looks like they got kicked out?”
“Shut up,” Yeosang rolls his eyes. “Hi, Yunho. Nice to see you again.”
“Hi, Yeosang.”
“You don’t sound very happy…”
“That’s because I’m not.”
“That’s no way to talk to a friend, is it? It’s like you’re not glad to see me at all,” Yeosang pouts, and Yunho’s stomach flips.
“You know I am, asshole,” Yunho leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.
“I knew you missed me!”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t piss me off.”
“Then why don’t you tell me to stop?” Yeosang raises an eyebrow. “Oh, right. Because you don’t want me to. You enjoy this, don’t you? You enjoy having my attention on you.”
Yunho presses his lips together.
He would love to bang Yeosang until he screams like defenseless prey.
“Fuck you.”
“Are you mad?”
“Not even close.”
“You sure about that?”
“What are you even doing here? Do you know what time it is?”
Yeosang looks away, his voice quieter.
“For some reason, I couldn’t sleep.”
“…Why?”
“Because I knew you’d be awake. And I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“That’s pathetic…”
“And yet you’re still talking to me.”
“Only because I don’t have the heart to send you away in the middle of the night.”
“Hmm… if it were daytime, would you have already kicked me out?”
Yunho doesn’t answer. He just holds Yeosang’s gaze, looking in those curious brown eyes that seem like they can see straight through him.
“Hah, I knew it!”
“You and that massive ego of yours…”
“Deep down, you know I’m right,” Yeosang shrugs.
“Why don’t you go annoy someone else?”
“Am I annoying you?”
Instead of answering, Yunho sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose.
“I came because I missed you. And I know you missed me too. So I thought I’d visit. Am I bothering you, Yunho?”
For just a split second, uncertainty flickers across Yeosang’s face. And that’s where Yunho breaks. Even like this, he finds him so damn attractive it drives him insane. He doesn’t understand how Yeosang can cause an instant erection just by saying his name, but he wants more. He wants to hear Yeosang say it like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever known.
He grabs his wrist, pulls him inside, and Yeosang barely has time to shut the door before his back hits the wall.
Yunho pins one of Yeosang’s arms beside his head, his other hand gripping his waist, biting down on his lower lip, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
“I’m tired of you just playing around with me. I want to have some fun too,” he murmurs, voice rough, sending a shiver down Yeosang’s spine. “Yeah, I was jealous. I still am. Like hell. I don’t like sharing, and I don’t like that all you do is mess with my head. You know me. You should’ve known there’d come a point where I’d want to make you mine. And guess what? That point is now.”
His hand slides up Yeosang’s side to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as he slips his tongue between his parted lips, his other hand traces the line of Yeosang’s spine through his shirt, over and over. Yeosang trembles against him, and Yunho knows, that no matter how much he gets of him, it will never be enough.
He bites down on his lips hard enough that their teeth clash, pressing their bodies together so there’s no doubt how much he wants him. Soft sounds spill from his mouth as Yeosang yields control – but his hands, moving restlessly against Yunho’s back, betray his own hunger.
Fingers digging into skin. Sliding up into his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a low groan from Yunho, who responds by gripping him tighter wherever he can.
His lips trail down Yeosang’s sharp jawline, to his neck, kissing, sucking, moving lower toward his collarbone, one hand kneading his thigh, the other still tracing his spine.
“Yunho–” Yeosang gasps, the name stretching into a moan as his head falls back against the wall. His legs tremble, barely holding him up.
“What do you want?” Yunho hooks two fingers into the waistband of his pajama pants, as if considering pulling them down.
He doesn’t get an answer. Instead, Yeosang pushes Yunho off with a hard push, hastily helps him take off his loose white T-shirt with clumsy, hurried movements, and starts to run his fingers along Yunho’s chest, then lowers his lips, licking first his sternum and then his abs. He unties the drawstring of his sweatpants with one hand, keeping eye contact with Yunho; his gaze is filled with hunger, desire, and anticipation, and Yunho can’t wait to see what he’s capable of.
Yeosang hooks his two index fingers into the waistband of Yunho’s boxers and slowly pulls it down, his middle and ring fingers tracing small circles on the newly exposed skin. Then, with deliberate slowness, he runs one finger from the shaft to the tip of Yunho’s penis, grasps it with his other hand, and begins to kiss his glans, then starts to lick it with his tongue, tracing it around the edge.
Yunho has never experienced euphoria like this before. His moans are getting louder and louder, no longer even trying to hold back. He doesn’t try to be quiet anymore. He feels all the blood rushing down, he watches Yeosang with eyes hazy with pleasure as he slowly takes his dick into his mouth, letting it go deeper and deeper, his hand working in tandem, alternating between his base and his balls.
Without thinking, almost instinctively, he grabs his hair, tears his locks, dictates the pace with both hands, making Yeosang swallow everything he’s about to burst out, his mind overwhelmed for a moment thinking that he wishes Yeosang would drown in his cum, so that this will be the last thing he will ever experience.
“Fuck!” he moans, as the sensation crashes over him. Release hits him all at once, his body tensing before unraveling, his breath uneven as he comes, his sperm finding its way into Yeosang’s mouth. His chest rises and falls rapidly, hands going slack as his legs tremble beneath him. That was, without question, the best orgasm of his life. At least so far. But he hasn’t forgotten what he wanted.
Yeosang pulls back, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes bright as he looks up at Yunho. His face is flushed, heat burning in his skin as his fingers drift across Yunho’s chest again, silent but expectant. Yunho’s gaze lingers on the veins running along his arms, on his full lips, still slightly reddened, on the small mark near his temple.
He’s never been able to stay indifferent around Yeosang. Now he understands why. Yeosang is anything but ordinary – more irritating, more childish, more insufferable than anyone else… But also more beautiful, sharper, more cunning, more desirable.
Yunho has always liked being in control. But up until now, he didn’t realize that the best kind of control is taking it from someone who refuses to give it up.
Yunho takes in the sight of Yeosang lying beneath him. No matter how many times he’s imagined this moment, no matter how often he’s pictured the two of them in exactly this position, reality surpasses every fantasy.
Moonlight spills in through the window, dancing across Yeosang’s pale skin, smooth as porcelain. Veins trace along his toned arms, which Yunho now pins to the bed, and his perfect, almost marble-like face is flushed from intoxication and pleasure.
Carefully, Yunho leans closer, pressing soft kisses to different parts of Yeosang’s face. This is only the beginning. Just a fragment of what awaits him. He doesn’t want to rush it, first, he lets his prey believe he’s capable of gentleness.
But that kind of gesture doesn’t quite work on a predator.
Yeosang frees his right arm from Yunho’s grip, reaching up to the back of his neck. His nails dig into Yunho’s skin as he pulls him down and crashes their mouths together in a forceful kiss.
His pants are still on – for some reason –, but Yunho doesn’t question it. He kisses him back just as fiercely, practically collapsing onto him, one hand sliding along his side in search of the waistband of his plaid pajama pants. Their tongues clash, battling for dominance, and when Yunho’s fingers finally reach him, Yeosang lets out a long, broken moan, biting down on Yunho’s lower lip hard enough that the metallic sweetness of blood soon follows.
Gripping him firmly, Yunho moves his hand in a steady rhythm, doing his best to ignore his own rigid arousal pressed against Yeosang’s thigh.
“Yunho, for fuck’s sake,” Yeosang pants between heated kisses, “do me a favor and just fuck me already.”
“Don’t be impatient,” Yunho breathes, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. His movements grow faster, each motion pulling another sharp sound from Yeosang. “Good things are worth waiting for.”
Yeosang’s fingers clutch at the sheets, muffled sounds slipping past his lips as he edges closer to the brink. Yunho, intoxicated by the sight, keeps going, until Yeosang’s body begins to tremble beneath him.
Then he stops.
Pulling his hand away, pressing a palm to his chest, he shifts slightly above him.
“You asshole–” Yeosang’s voice comes out hoarse, breaking at the edges.
“You’ve got two options,” Yunho says calmly. “Either finish what I started yourself… or wait until I decide to continue.”
It’s probably the worst ultimatum he’s ever come up with, but he doesn’t care. All he wants is to claim Yeosang – make him his, mark him –, and for that, he’s willing to do anything.
He enjoys how every move both irritates and excites him in equal measure. Loves watching how the man beneath him reacts to his command, as if this is long-overdue payback for everything he’s had to deal with alone, in the dark.
“Why don’t you make life easier for both of us by putting it in my ass right now?” Yeosang whines. “Or are you really trying to make me feel like I’ve lost this fight because I’m letting you dominate me?”
“You can take a guess,” Yunho grins, caressing Yeosang’s nipples with his finger. “I told you, I want to have some fun too.”
Yeosang throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut, deep breaths and quiet moans escaping him.
Yunho continues trailing his lips along his neck, determined to leave marks behind, occasionally biting down just to taste his porcelain skin once again. He simply can't get enough of the intoxicating taste of lust and desire.
He enjoys it, but he knows he wants much more. Because sure, part of this is about getting under Yeosang’s skin, but he’s already getting bored of it.
“Be so dear and help me get rid of your pants before I decide to just tear them off you,” Yunho tosses out casually, shifting onto his knees as his fingers toy with the area around Yeosang’s hipbone. “Otherwise, I’m going out to the couch to sleep.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Yeosang growls, yanking his pajama pants off with sharp, impatient movements.
Even through the black fabric of his underwear, it’s obvious how much he wants Yunho’s touch, how desperate he is for more, and Yunho has to gather every ounce of self-control he has not to give in immediately. But he wants to suck his cock until he forgets his own name. He wants to taste his cum, to let it all into his mouth, and then kiss him with the lips he’s used to pamper him until he almost faints.
However, he holds himself back on purpose, just so he can savor for a little longer what he’s been craving for so long.
With a small tilt of his head, he signals to Yeosang that he’s finally willing to give him what he wants. Using his hands, he turns him from his back onto his stomach, taking his time to admire every inch of his body once more. Light scratches along Yeosang’s thighs urge him to push himself up onto his knees instead of lying flat.
Still clutching the now thoroughly wrinkled sheets beneath him, Yeosang obeys, even as Yunho slips his middle and ring fingers into his mouth to wet them.
“So you can be obedient when you want to,” Yunho growls, clearly pleased.
He drags a finger slowly down Yeosang’s spine, then grips his ass with his other hand, caressing him gently. Compared to the earlier sharp, vocal reactions, Yeosang now lets out softer, more indulgent sighs, as if he’s enjoying this slower pace, despite having begged for something rougher before. Then he reaches back, guiding Yunho’s hand toward where he needs him.
“Don’t be impatient,” Yunho whispers with a faint smile. As he speaks, he presses himself against him, letting Yeosang feel exactly what his mere presence is doing to him. “You’ll get what you want.”
“Very good,” Yeosang replies, his voice deeper now, less playful, like he’s floating somewhere just above the edge of clarity. Yunho’s cock responds to the change with a few happy twitches.
At the same time, Yunho presses two fingers inside Yeosang and leans down to press kisses along the faint, nearly invisible moles scattered across his smooth skin. As he works to prepare him, he breathes him in, the raw, intoxicating scent of him, and it hits him all at once: even when Yeosang isn’t the one in control, there’s still something about him that feels dominant. And suddenly, Yunho understands how people could lose everything for him.
It’s been a long time since he’s taken this much pleasure in having someone beneath him. Something had always been missing before… something essential.
Something that makes Yeosang… Yeosang.
The thought is unsettling. Dangerously so. Yunho knows he needs a very strong orgasm to forget it, at least during sex. This isn’t the time to think.
“Ready?” he asks, almost casually.
“Yunho, if you don’t start fucking me the next five seconds, I swear…” Yeosang mutters into the sheets.
This is suddenly followed by a huge, stifled moan as Yunho furiously, his mind in a fog, penetrates him completely. It feels so good to drive his cock in and out of Yeosang, to listen to his voice, to grip his body with both hands. Suddenly he forgets what his mind has been ticking, all that matters to him is to get revenge on Yeosang's irritating behavior, which keeps getting him off, to let him know how much he already wanted his body, to feel it from the inside.
He finds Yeosang's dick with one hand and starts to slowly finish what he started earlier, and holding the throbbing penis in his hand, he feels like the whole world is at his feet.
“Do you know what it’s like,” Yunho breathes, picking up his pace, “to have someone just… play with you?”
Each sentence breaks between breaths, his chest rising and falling quickly, low sounds slipping out as he moves.
“It’s a terrible feeling. Completely unfair… how long you kept messing with me.”
His nails leave faint red marks in their wake.
“With you… it’s easy… to mess around…” Yeosang manages between uneven breaths, barely coherent.
Yunho rewards Yeosang with a few cruel thrusts for his sharp response, then with a fierce jerk, he makes the man he is currently brutally pounding reach his climax.
He licks some of the cum that has gotten onto his hand and fingers, and brings his other hand back to Yeosang's body to warm his cold fingers with his back. He slows down again, more and more, then with a thump, he slides out of him and lies down on his huge double bed. His body still hums with the aftershock, his breathing gradually steadying.
His cock, now a little limp but still hard, which he had just worked so heartlessly, is rising like a flag, and Yeosang is only able to take his eyes off him when he follows Yunho's example and lies down on the bedclothes, not caring that his own cum is making his back slippery.
“For you,” Yunho murmurs quietly.
He sits up, glancing down at him, almost leaning in, almost closing the distance again, but stopping himself at the last second.
“What?” Yeosang asks.
“It’s easy for you to play with me.”
With that, Yunho gets up and heads for the shower without another word.
Left behind on the bed, Yeosang listens with a soft smile as Yunho moans his name softly on the other side of the wall.
“I’m in serious trouble,” Yunho declares dramatically. He looks at his two best friends, who are tangled together on his couch, and a visible shiver runs down his spine. He shifts in his armchair, clearly uncomfortable.
“What happened? Did you get laid?” Seonghwa asks with far too serious a tone for the question, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to laugh.
“I don’t know… I feel like that wouldn’t even be such a problem,” Wooyoung hums thoughtfully.
“Ah, speaking from experience…”
“Shut up, Hwa! Be glad you have someone to fuck!”
“I am. It’d just be nice if you thought before speaking sometimes.”
“And yet you like it when I don’t shut up…”
“Moaning and talking nonstop aren’t the same thing. I only like one of those.”
Yunho lets out a tired sigh. Ever since his birthday party, this is all he’s had to listen to. Introducing them that night had been the biggest mistake of his life. Within half an hour, he found them on the kitchen counter making out, and at night he had to listen to Wooyoung in the next room how fucking happy he was to finally meet Seonghwa, repeating his name like a broken record.
That was months ago.
They’ve been together ever since, and both of them are happier than ever. Don’t get him wrong – Yunho thinks they’re adorable, fully supports their relationship –, but the constant, sex-laced banter is starting to get on his nerves.
Ironically, that’s exactly what he wants to talk to them about.
“Can we focus on my problem?” he groans. “I love you guys and all, but I called you here for something important.”
“We’re listening.”
“It’s about Yeosang.”
At the name, a knowing grin spreads across Wooyoung’s face. Seonghwa isn’t quite as informed as his boyfriend, but he looks like he has a pretty good idea where this is going.
“Oh? Did you finally realize he’s not as annoying as you insisted and decided to give your budding romance a chance?”
“Not exactly,” Yunho grimaces.
“Then the only reason you made out was because you were drunk, and now you can’t live with yourself because you hate him?”
Again, Yunho shakes his head.
“I think he just fucked him so Yeosang would finally stop being annoying,” Seonghwa adds, looking like he knows he’s saying something ridiculous.
Unfortunately, it’s not far from the truth. At all.
When Yunho doesn’t respond, both of them stare at him in silence, completely still. It’s almost like a painting.
“Don’t tell me that’s actually what happened,” Wooyoung finally groans. Seonghwa’s jaw drops.
“…Yeah,” Yunho scratches the back of his neck nervously. “I was pissed at him.”
“And your best solution was to fuck him until he forgot which way was up?” Seonghwa asks, baffled. “How did you even get there? And when?”
“Yesterday, we were kind of… messing with each other for a while,” Yunho begins. He tells them about the carrot incident, the back-and-forth between their apartments, leaving out a few key details about everything going on in his head. Like how vividly he remembers touching himself with his eyes closed, imagining what it would feel like if Yeosang were the one doing it.
Now he knows. And it’s annoyingly hard to admit just how good it was.
“Then later, well, at night, he came down because he couldn’t sleep. Said he was thinking about me, knew I’d still be awake. And then…”
“You snapped?” Wooyoung supplies.
“Something like that. I dragged him inside, we made out, I let him suck my dick, then took him to the bedroom and fucked him. That’s it.”
“And after? Don’t tell me there was zero aftercare or anything,” Seonghwa complains. “Poor Yeosang…”
“He didn’t look like he needed it. I went to shower, and by the time I got back, he was gone.”
“Of course he left if you just ditched him like that!” Wooyoung sits up, offended.
“Woo… I don’t like him. And he doesn’t like me either. We just wanted each other until we got what we wanted. To me, he’s still the same annoying Yeosang he was two days ago, the only difference is now I know what it’s like to sleep with him. That’s it.”
Wooyoung looks like he wants to say something, but in the end he just shakes his head and stays silent. Seonghwa, on the other hand, furrows his brows and doesn’t seem like he intends to keep his thoughts to himself.
“You don’t actually know Yeosang, do you?” he asks, his tone edged with reproach.
Yunho pauses to think about it. The truth is, he really doesn’t. He only knows a certain side of him, the one that constantly gets on his nerves. But if someone asked him about Yeosang’s favorite color, what he likes to do in his free time, or even what he does for a living, he wouldn’t be able to answer.
“I don’t want to get to know him,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Listen… I don’t know what you expect from me or why you’re pushing this Yeosang-propaganda on me, but let me make one thing clear; I don’t want anything more to do with him. That’s the issue I wanted to talk about.”
He tries to sound calm, but it’s not easy. Processing everything that happened last night is already a lot, having his friends try to push him toward Yeosang is the last thing he needs.
“If you gave it even a little time and got to know who he really is, you’d like him a lot,” Wooyoung says with a small, almost sad smile. “There’s a reason I wanted you two to meet so badly.”
Before they met for the first time, Wooyoung had tried more than once to get the three of them together somewhere. Then, once Seonghwa came into the picture, he tried to arrange something with all four of them. But somehow, it never worked out. They just couldn’t coordinate; someone always canceled at the last minute, and eventually Yunho started to feel like fate itself was trying to keep them apart.
Then he finally met him. And understood why.
“Fine, whatever,” Wooyoung sighs. “I’m not trying to force anything on you. I just thought you should know that Yeosang isn’t an open book. You don’t know anything about him.”
“I’ve noticed,” Yunho rolls his eyes. “He’s always showing a different side of himself.”
“Because he doesn’t know which one you’d like best,” Seonghwa adds with the satisfied smile of a wise mentor. “But it seems like he’s figured out what works.”
“I don’t think that realization happened just now,” Yunho snorts. “I was hard the second I saw him.”
Seonghwa and Wooyoung burst out laughing in perfect sync.
“I don’t see where the problem is,” Seonghwa says, wiping away tears from laughing so hard. “One minute you’re saying you don’t want anything from him, the next you’re admitting you’ve needed him since the very first moment…”
“But only physically!”
“And what do you think that is, if not attraction, you idiot? You’re craving him, I’m sure you’ve already jerked off thinking about him…”
“No!”
“No?” Wooyoung raises an eyebrow.
“No! I just… almost did,” Yunho mutters. No one has ever died from a white lie. “Can we maybe move on from your filthy imagination?”
“Our filthy imagination?” Seonghwa shoots back, offended. “Excuse me, but you’re the one who could come just thinking about Yeosang, because your confused little brain still hasn’t decided whether you can’t stand him or want him! Let’s talk about what’s in your fantasy instead!”
A few seconds of silence follow, then all three of them burst out laughing.
“I don’t think we should stop arguing about who has dirtier thoughts,” Wooyoung diplomatically suggests. “Shouldn’t we go out for a drink instead?”
Yunho has never really been the type prone to alcoholism, and he never drinks alone. Partly because he thinks drinking by yourself is pathetic, and partly because he absolutely hates being hungover.
That’s usually the case. Right now, though, nothing about this situation is usual.
He wants to forget everything, and by everything, he obviously means Yeosang.
They’ve been at the bar for a while now, the one Wooyoung dragged them to, and Yunho can feel his ability to form coherent – well, at least sober – thoughts slipping away. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to try every new drink? But those cocktails looked so damn good – and they were –, and he hadn’t had any shots in ages, and he’s never been the kind of person to say no to a round or two before…
The place is suffocatingly crowded. The music is blasting, and he has no idea what’s playing, just that it sounds absolutely terrible, and if that wasn’t bad enough, it’s loud, so loud he can barely hear his own thoughts. He can feel himself sweating, and he knows he should step outside for some air, but he doesn’t have any cigarettes on him, and right now, that’s the only thing that could calm him down.
Wooyoung usually has some, but where the hell is he?
He disappeared with Seonghwa not long ago, and Yunho hasn’t seen either of them since…
He really needs a cigarette. And there’s no one to bum one from.
He pushes his way out the door, sidesteps a group of teenagers, then digs his phone out of his pocket and presses it to his ear, leaning back against the wall as he waits for the person on the other end to pick up.
“Yeah? What the fuck do you want at quarter to three in the morning?”
“Didn’t seem to bother you last night,” Yunho grins.
“One day I’m seriously going to kill you. What is it?”
Yunho feels his dick trying to escape from his pants at the sound of that sleepy, angry, hoarse voice.
“Got a cigarette?”
“I do. Want me to bring one down?”
“Uh… I’m not at home,” Yunho admits, suddenly feeling like a kid confessing to his mom that he stayed up past curfew.
“Jesus Christ…” Yeosang mutters, going quiet for a moment. “Where are you?”
“Some bar,” Yunho glances around, hoping to spot something familiar enough to identify it. “Wooyoung chose it.”
“Okay, I think I know where you are. Yunho, listen to me, alright?” Yeosang's voice is suddenly serious, and if Yunho wasn't currently hanging out on the street with a bunch of strangers, he would have been running his hand lustfully over his dick while listening to instructions long ago. “Since you’re very obviously drunk, I don’t trust you to go anywhere. Stay right where you are. Don’t move. I’m coming to get you.”
“You’re the best,” Yunho says, his tone coming out softer than he intended.
“If you moan into the phone one more time, I’m hanging up and you can figure out how to get home on your own.”
And with that, Yeosang hangs up. Yunho tries calling him back a few times, but each attempt gets rejected. Eventually, he gives up and instead entertains himself by staring up at the stars, tapping his fingers against his thigh to the muffled thump of the music leaking from inside, which doesn’t even sound that terrible anymore.
Wooyoung and Seonghwa can go screw themselves for all he cares. If they’re not looking for him, not even checking on their so-called best friend, then they can go suck a dick, he thinks, then pauses, realizing that for them, that’s not even a punishment. For him, though? That’d be great. He’d gladly have a dick in his mouth. Or his in someone else’s.
When is Yeosang getting here? And how does he feel about blowjobs in a car?
He closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths, trying not to inhale too much secondhand smoke, and does his best to deal with his erection as quickly as possible. The only saving grace is that he hadn’t actually planned on going out tonight, just a casual hang at his place with Seonghwa and Wooyoung, so he’s wearing a simple pair of dark gray jeans that, thank God, don’t make him look like he’s smuggling a trained snake down his pants.
A black Toyota pulls up right in front of him, and a familiar face appears behind the rolled-down window.
“Get in, you idiot,” Yeosang gestures, wearing an expression that says he’d love to kill Yunho on the spot.
“Wow, it’s warm,” Yunho comments as he climbs into the car.
Yeosang sighs, rolls the window up, then, before releasing the handbrake, locks eyes with him.
“One day I’m seriously going to kill you,” he says with a faint smile. “I love how well you play the victim, but when you want to, you can get on my nerves just as much as I get on yours.”
Yunho just stares at him, wide-eyed.
Yeosang’s wearing a worn black T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair messy, dark circles under his eyes, like he woke up maybe twenty minutes ago, probably because of Yunho’s call, and yet there’s still something ridiculously breathtaking about him. Maybe it’s the look on his face; superior, almost condescending, like he knows he’s above everyone else. Or the way he speaks, building walls around himself, playing the part of someone harmless. Or maybe it’s both. Or maybe he’s just insanely hot.
Yunho’s glad he hasn’t buckled his seatbelt yet, it gives him more room to move.
He braces one hand on the edge of his seat, the other reaching out, maybe for Yeosang’s face, maybe his hair, he’s not even sure, he just wants to touch him. And then he kisses him, hard and sudden.
He tries to keep his balance while devouring his lips, unable to get enough of the way Yeosang kisses him back, hands roaming along his back. He can’t think about anything except how fragile Yeosang looks, and how he’s anything but that. He loves that contradiction, loves that Yeosang is a walking paradox, and maybe, just maybe, Yunho is the only one who’s managed to tame him.
He’s kissed a lot of people. More than once, in some cases. But nothing has ever felt like this. Nothing this intoxicating. He feels like even though he’s already had all of Yeosang once, it wasn’t nearly enough.
And now, without the restraint of sobriety, he doesn’t even try to push those thoughts away anymore; what it would be like to see Yeosang at his limits. What he’d sound like when he moans until his throat hurts. How his body would shake after coming so many times he can barely take it anymore. He wants to lick the tears of pleasure off his face, shove his tongue into his drooling mouth.
Seonghwa was right. His imagination really is filthy. But what is he supposed to do if he doesn’t want to change that? If these fantasies are the only thing he wants to think about?
“Yunho…” Yeosang pushes him away with a careful push. “You’re drunk. And you want to fuck me in front of a pub. Maybe we should go home instead?”
Yunho blinks a few times. His right hand has wandered down to Yeosang’s pants, his left is rummaging under his shirt, and he has no memory of how he got there.
“Yeah, right, sorry. Let’s go,” he settles back into his original position, fastening his seatbelt (after a bit of a mishap).
Most of the drive passes in silence. Yeosang fiddles with the radio, clearly irritated that he can’t find anything worth listening to, but this time he doesn’t curse out loud. Instead, Yunho just listens to the way his index finger taps the buttons a little too hard, accompanied by a few quiet, frustrated sighs.
He looks out the window, watching the city move. Nausea creeps up on him, and he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol, the suffocating bar, or the small but very real fact that Yeosang drives like a complete menace. They’ve already run two red lights, turned into a one-way street the wrong way, taken every corner without signaling, and Yeosang clearly couldn’t care less whether pedestrians are trying to cross. And they’re on fairly busy roads.
“If I get breathalyzed, it’ll be completely your fault,” Yeosang finally breaks the silence.
“Why?” Yunho blinks, tearing his gaze away from the outside world. He tries to look at Yeosang, but everything is blurry and his head is buzzing.
“Because you shoved your alcohol-soaked tongue down my throat, and I bet some of that ended up in my system too,” Yeosang shakes his head. “And I can’t exactly tell the cops, ‘Officer, I swear I didn’t drink, my horny passenger just decided to perform an impromptu throat inspection on me,’ can I?”
Yunho bursts into hysterical laughter, and soon Yeosang joins in.
“Yeah, that’s… actually pretty surreal,” Yunho shakes his head, instantly regretting it when it feels like bells are ringing inside his skull. “Hey…”
“What?”
“So… Do you actually have a cigarette?”
“Oh right, that’s why you called, you asshole. It’s in the glove compartment.”
Yunho digs out the pack and a lighter, rolls down the window, and lights one up. The bitter taste fills his mouth instantly, sinking into his lungs and washing away his thoughts. Suddenly, everything feels simple. Life doesn’t seem so shitty, things aren’t complicated, and Yeosang looks fucking incredible.
He’s just a man, after all. Ruled by his dick. And his dick knows exactly what it wants. It wants Yeosang. The only question is what his heart wants, aside from a soft bed.
“Do you usually know what your heart wants?” he asks lightly. Life is simple. This isn’t a serious question.
Yeosang tightens his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles turn white. The wind from the open window ruffles his red hair, strands dancing around his face. His expression turns serious, his gaze fixed on the road, teeth worrying at his lower lip.
“No,” he says finally, quieter than anything he’s said so far. “But I think anyone who says they do either has never felt anything strongly enough… or they’re lying.”
“Hm.” Yunho flicks ash out the window. “I don’t know… I guess sooner or later everyone figures out what they really want.”
“Sure. But until then, you know what there is, Yunho? Suffering. Because what the fuck are you supposed to do with your life if you have no idea what you want?” Yeosang spits the words like acid. “But you know what? Forget it. This whole idea that one day you’ll just realize it and suddenly everything will make sense, it’s bullshit. Life’s not that simple.”
Yunho smiles. If Yeosang’s right hand weren’t resting on the gear shift, he’d grab it.
“Life is exactly as simple as you want it to be.”
“Keep living in your little utopian dream. Must be nice.”
They pull up in front of the apartment building. Yeosang turns off the engine, pulls the handbrake, and in the glow of the interior light, looks over at Yunho. There’s something strange in his eyes, something Yunho has never seen before. Shame? Or pain?
“Life is only as simple as the hand you’re dealt,” Yeosang says quietly. His gaze flickers between Yunho’s eyes and lips. “You can’t change that. Can’t do anything about it. I’ve learned that much. But… even the worst can become a little less bad if you surround yourself with things you like. Or in our case… things you enjoy hating. I hope you’ll keep hating me for a long time, so you can keep taking your frustration out on me.”
“That’s a pretty damn pessimistic way of thinking,” Yunho says, suddenly feeling oddly open-minded. Probably the alcohol. “You could just say you want to get fucked again.”
“What would be the fun in that?” Yeosang shrugs.
“If you’re chasing fun, all you have to do is ask,” Yunho murmurs, trailing his fingers along Yeosang’s thigh as he leans in to kiss him again, but Yeosang pushes him away.
“Let’s go upstairs,” he looks away. “You’re really going to feel this tomorrow.”
Then he gets out of the car without another word. Yunho follows, crushing the cigarette under his shoe against the dark pavement.
They don’t speak in the elevator either. And when Yunho steps out on the second floor and turns back to wave goodbye, he’s met with an expression on Yeosang’s face he’s never seen before.
With a quick motion, Yeosang wipes the tears from his face, and then the doors close.